


It All Ends the Same

by Pennstram



Series: This world our own (SPN Advent Calendar 2020) [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse (Supernatural), Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Christmas curse, Dean Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues, Fallen Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, SPNAdventCalendar2020, Self-Destruction, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:48:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28189473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pennstram/pseuds/Pennstram
Summary: "Christmas is about family, Cas, and every year it reminds me that my family is gone."Every year, Dean remembers. Every year, Dean accepts he's cursed to be alone forever.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Endverse Castiel/Endverse Dean Winchester
Series: This world our own (SPN Advent Calendar 2020) [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2041642
Comments: 1
Kudos: 26





	It All Ends the Same

**Author's Note:**

> Day 6: Christmas Curse   
> I uh-- went less literal curse and more of a tainted psychological idea that Dean believes he's cursed.

“Dean?” Cas’s voice was quiet behind him and the hunter sighed. Poking at the dying embers he shuffled over just enough for Cas to sit beside him if he wanted. 

He knew the offer would be accepted before Cas even realized he was moving. “What, Cas?” He asked, once the other was seated beside him. The space between their bodies simultaneously too much and not enough. Dean wondered when this rift happened. When did they let themselves drift apart like this? 

“What are you still doing out here?” It was a simple enough question to pull him back to reality. He knew Cas meant nothing by it, that he couldn’t possibly know. How could he when Dean never said anything? How could he when Dean refused to let him in. Refused to let him close enough to understand the weight of his own thoughts. Yet at the same time, the question still picked at a scabbing wound mercilessly. What was he doing out here? What did he gain by stewing over this every year? What more could he hope to understand. 

Shrugging he shoved the stick into the dying fire again and muttered, “It’s the 23rd.” As if that could explain it all. As if that told the former Angel why the night haunted his dreams and memories for the past 3 years. As if that could make the hurt disappear. 

Cas was silent beside him for the longest time and then, “Sam wouldn’t want this to haunt you.” Dean stiffened and his fist clenched around the stick. Yeah. Sam. “You can’t keep doing this. Remembering is one thing, but Dean. You’re obsessing. You’re letting your memories take over and drown you.”

“How is it any different than you lamenting about the fall.” It was curt and sharp and Dean knew it was a low blow. But he was hurting. He was hurting and Cas was getting too close again and he couldn't-- He couldn't let that happen. Beside him Cas seemed to fold in on himself. 

“It’s different because this is still hurting you. Every year you think about it and it hurts you.” Dean could feel Cas’s gaze on him but he refused to look over. Instead he watched the embers glow and pop. Eating away at the charred wood like a disease. “It’s a curse on your very soul and I ca—“

“Falling wasn’t a curse on you?” 

The world grew still around them and Dean finally looked over at his companion. Cas was no longer watching him or the fire. Instead he was staring at the long scar across the back of one hand where it disappeared up his sleeve. His expression was distant and his voice thick when he finally spoke again. “No.” He looked up to meet Dean’s eye then, “No, it wasn’t.” 

With a huff Dean leaned forward to fold his arms across his knees. “No?” Shaking his head he let his eyes fall back to the ground. “Why is it I don’t believe you?”

“Because you never believe me, Dean.”

The pure sound of disdain in his tone made Dean smile. It was just so Cas. The smile slipped the next second though. It was so very Cas. Except… it was the Cas that didn’t exist anymore. It wasn’t his Cas. It wasn’t the Cas who gave up his wings. The Cas who was forced to live as a human now. The Cas that found solace in drugs and alcohol. The Cas who’d follow any order blindly if Dean was the one giving it. “How do you not see this as a curse?” 

He felt Cas shift ever so slightly closer to his side before he murmured, “Because I still have you.” Dean let him move a hand to rest over top of his own. “Why does the 23rd haunt you, Bee?” Dean huffed and rolled his eyes at the nickname as he turned one hand over to tangle their fingers together. It was too close. Too close, too close, too close but Dean couldn't help it. He wanted and needed and Cas was _right. There._ He was right there and so willing to give Dean all the comfort and hope he needed. But he couldn't do it. He couldn't do this. Not to Cas. 

“Christmas is about family, Cas, and every year it reminds me that my family is gone. Every year it hits me, again and again that Sammy is gone. That mom and dad are gone. That my whole god damn family is gone.” He sucked in a ragged breath, yanked his hand away from Cas’s and then choked out, “So yeah, it is a fucking curse. Every Christmas I’m cursed to remember I’m fucking alone.” It felt like a knife twisting in his heart. He'd rather hurt him this way though. He'd rather hurt Cas now, and keep him here. 

The sharp sound of a hand connecting with skin cut through the night air. Dean’s mouth dropped open as he brought his hand up to press against his stinging cheek. Blinking rapidly he leveled a disbelieving look at Cas.

The man’s face was drawn back in hurt and frustration and Dean could see his hands shaking in his lap. “Shut up.” Cas growled finally, “Shut the fuck up, Winchester. Yeah, they’re gone. Okay. I’m not going to sugar coat it because you’re a fucking big boy. They’re gone, but you’re not fucking alone.” He was though. He was and it was all his fault. Because if he wasn't, then it meant someone else would get hurt. And that someone else always seemed to be Cas. 

Pivoting his body, Cas grabbed Dean’s cheeks and forced him to look him in the eye. He couldn't do it. He wouldn't do it. “You do this. Every year. You seclude yourself. You pull away, you push me aside when I try to help. What the hell am I then? If not your family, what the hell am I? You say you’re cursed to be alone every Christmas? Well whose fucking fault is that, Dean?” He pressed their foreheads together and let out a shaky puff of air, “I’m right fucking here.” 

He wouldn't hurt Castiel. 

The raw emotion in his eyes made Dean look away, swallowing hard. “That’s not what I-”

“Finish that sentence and you can stay outside tonight.” Cas cut in sharply, eyes narrowing as he forcibly moved Dean’s face to look at him again. “It was what you meant. It’s always what you mean.” There was a bitter note to his voice that made Dean flush in shame. It hurt. It hurt a lot, because he knew it was the truth. It was the truth and Dean hated himself for it.

Cas gave him everything. His energy, his wings, his Grace, his life. His love. His devotion. And what did Dean give him back? A slap to the face. He took all that love and threw it back in Cas’s face because he was too ashamed and afraid to hold it too close. He brought his hands up to cover Cas’s before he slowly pulled them down and took a step back. “You’re right.” Cas gave him a sad smile even as Dean watched his face crumple. 

“You’re right.” He repeated as he dropped Cas’s hands and took another step back. Clenching his jaw he met blue eyes briefly before turning on his heel and stalking away toward their cabin. It was a stupid thing to do. He should have stayed. Should have talked about it. He should have fixed whatever broken thing had settled between them. Yet at the same time he knew Cas would forgive him. He always forgave him, and Dean would continue to push and push and push. 

Instead he walked away. He walked away as the hitch in Cas’s breathing rang through the frozen air. He walked away because that’s all he could do. He didn’t deserve the kind of loyalty Cas bestowed on him. He didn’t deserve it because he couldn’t bring himself to give it back. Because if he gave it back, he wouldn't be able to stop. If he gave it back, Cas would get hurt. Instead he walked away. Even when he knew it hurt the fallen Angel every time. 

About an hour later Dean heard the door open and shut again with a quiet click. He didn’t bother looking up from his spot on the bed as the soft footsteps grew closer. He merely set the worn photograph down on the side table and pat the mattress beside himself. Cas sunk into his side in an instant and the smell of weed stung his senses. 

Sighing, he tipped his head to the side and pressed his cheek against the crown of Cas’s head. He did this. He caused this distress and disenchantment in the once mighty warrior. He wasn’t strong enough to say yes then, so now he wasn’t strong enough to save Cas. Turning his head, Dean pressed his lips to smoke scented hair and just breathed. He let the strong smell of leaf litter, and camp smoke and weed wash over him. He mourned the loss of ozone and morning rain. Of honey and peppermint. 

He longed for the time he could press his nose into soft brown hair and smell home. “I can’t call you family, Cas.” He muttered after a moment of silence. Cas remained still and quiet where he was curled into his side. Dean wondered vaguely if Cas was too stoned to even register he was speaking. To his own disgust he hoped that was the case. Cas didn’t need to know. It’d only hurt him more. It’d only hurt them both more. That was after all, the curse Dean was forced to carry. 

“I can’t call you family because then you’ll leave me too… and I… I don’t think I could stay alive without you, Angel.”


End file.
